


5 Times Holland March was a Surprisingly Good Dad + 1 Time Jackson Healy was

by Asian_Aaron_Samuels



Category: The Nice Guys (2016)
Genre: 5 Things, Angst, Bi Boys Being Bi Dads, Canon Compliant, Canon Continuation, Detective Dads, Eventual Romance, Family Feels, Fluff, God I don't know what to tag, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holland March is a Good Dad, Humor, I might revisit this and tag it better bc I don't know, M/M, Original Character(s), like at the last second, what I am now calling the Holland Howl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-16 18:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13060032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asian_Aaron_Samuels/pseuds/Asian_Aaron_Samuels
Summary: Happy holidays, lovelies~!





	5 Times Holland March was a Surprisingly Good Dad + 1 Time Jackson Healy was

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Storystuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storystuff/gifts).



> *screams incoherently* Happy holidays, I've never done one of these before and I'm T E R R I F I E D .

**One**

 

Jackson remembered the first time he met Holly, well properly, this blonde little thing in overalls hefting a paper bag and inquiring the nature of his relationship to her father. He only found it mildly odd after the fact that Holly looked like she'd just come back from grocery shopping.

It was after John Boy's attempt at killing them and the auto show that he found out just how independent his partner's daughter was. He wouldn't be surprised if she did her father's taxes for him.

Grocery shopping wasn't the only chore the young blonde had taken responsibility of. Holly was adept at cooking anything that was packaged with instructions--the Marches ate a lot of tuna casseroles and baked beans--and was known to iron Holland's work clothes to save money on dry cleaning.

Call him old fashioned, but the Irish bred private eye believed parents should take care of their children rather than the other way around. So maybe Jackson started staying for dinner just so he could shoo the youngest March out of the kitchen while he whipped up his ma's corned beef and subtly convinced Holland to come with them to go to the store (Jackson might be making good money now, but he wasn't going to buy their groceries every week, be reasonable, March.).

The older male suspected Holland caught on to what he was doing and decided to make a change. It was a reasonable enough explanation for the brown sack Holly toted like a first place trophy while she got into the back of his car.

"My dad made me lunch," she explained excitedly, leaning forward with said bag to show Jackson the contents.

"Oh? What'd your old man pack?"

The tiny blonde pulled out small Ziplocs of baby carrots, Oreos, and blueberries. There was also a container of spaghetti, a fork wrapped in a napkin, and a Yoohoo. Jackson knew she got lunch at school like Jessica, which was fine, but then there was Janet with her perfectly proportioned lunches packed every morning by her stay-at-home mom. Complete with encouraging words scribed on actual letterhead paper.

Point is, Janet is incredibly obnoxious about her boxed lunches and it made Holly wish her dad could be like Janet's mom.

Holly was still gushing about her meal when Holland got in the front seat with his stake out bag. He had already put on his seatbelt by the time he realized the brunet was staring at him.

"What?" he asked.

Jackson smirked slightly, "Nothin'."

The blond mumbled about how it wasn't nothing if the older male was staring at him. After they dropped off Holly at school, they drove over to an industrial park and set up camp while they waited for their mark to arrive. Hidden behind shipping containers, the pair got comfortable; Jackson retrieved a book from the glove compartment--The Great Gatsby--while the other detective passed the time with reading his newspaper. At a quarter to noon, the blond PI rummaged through his bag.

A moment later, a clear container filled with spaghetti was dropped unceremoniously on his lap, followed by a fork and paper towel. The aforementioned man turned to look at the blond, amusement clear behind his glasses. Holland ignored him in favour of digging into his lunch.

"Hey," he said through a mouthful of tomato sauce and noodles, "Don't look at me while I eat, it makes me self conscious."

* * *

**Two**

 

The brunet picked up the phone on the third ring with the hand not keeping his towel wrapped around his thick waist. 

"Healy," he heard a sob, "Hello? Are you all right?"

"Mister Healy," they cried.

"Holly? Sweetheart, what's the matter?"

She didn't reply, just continued crying into the phone. Jackson tried to remember what she told him the day before. Something about spending the night at a friend's because her father was on a date tonight. He remembered Holland's childlike excitement when he brought it up, exclaiming how he might be getting laid in the nearby future. 

There was another voice on the other end of the call, the pitch high and just barely familiar. J-something. Not Janet.

"Mister Healy? It's Jessica."

Jessica.

"Hey, Jess. What’s the matter with Holly? You guys okay?" He tried to keep the rising panic from reaching his tone. Jessica herself sounded calm, if a little sad.

"We're not in danger or anything."

The private eye allowed his shoulders to loosen up. The kids were safe.

"That's good, but I need you to tell me why Holly's crying."

"She's sick, like super sick. Holly was fine when she got here after school, but she's been throwing up for almost ten minutes."

Jackson rubbed a hand over his face. "You did good by calling me. What does Holly want? Does she need medicine, does she need me to come pick her up?"

"But Mister March isn't home."

"I'll take her back to their house and I'll try to call the restaurant. Ask Holly how that sounds." 

The two girls conversed incoherently on their end, he could just hear several apologies for being sick by Holly that made his heart twist.

Jessica returned to the phone a second after confirming with her friend their plan of action, "Holly said yes."

Jackson got Jessica's address and hurriedly dressed in jeans and a wrinkled dress shirt. It was a twelve minute drive from his apartment to the cul-de-sac Jessica's family lived at. When he arrived, a man with strawberry blond hair answered the door, eyes friendly and posture completely docile. Jessica's dad asked him to wait a minute while Jessica and her mother finished packing Holly's things. They made small talk, something Jackson had trouble doing, he didn't like talking just to fill silence.

Holly appeared a moment later with Jessica's arm slung over her shoulder. She looked paler than usual and her hair was pinned back with clips. When she looked up at Jackson he felt smaller than she was at the pitiful distress in her eyes.

"I might throw up in your car," Holly said in lieu of a proper greeting.

He bit back an inappropriate laugh, thanked the Prewitts, and then they were off to the March residence. Holly threw up where the tree she hated used to be. Jackson rubbed her back and kept her hair from falling into the line of fire. They went inside and the older of the two instructed the girl to wash up while he looked for the number of the restaurant her father was at.

It took Jackson longer than he liked to find the number in the phonebook, a ritzy place almost an hour away. Why Holland agreed to dine at a place so far away was beyond him. The man couldn't even remember to tell his daughter the name of the restaurant. In his most pleasant voice, Jackson called the French restaurant and waited for his partner to pick up.

"Holland March, what can I do for you?"

"March, it's Healy."

A whine passed through the speaker, "What the hell, man? I'm with a sure thing and you're-"

"Holly's sick."

"What-what do you mean sick, sick like dying sick or sick like menstrual cramps and long bathroom visits?" Holland's voice didn't betray a single ounce of worry at his daughter being ill.

"Sick like she was crying and throwing up when she called me from Jessica's and I took her home so she could feel comfortable in her own home."

The blond released a loud breath of air, "Thanks, thank you so much, man."

"Don't worry about it," Jackson replied, "I just wanted to get you on the phone so you could talk to Holly."

As if on cue, Holly appeared at the detective's side, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"Is that my dad? Can I talk to him?"

He handed the phone wordlessly to the little blonde and left the room to give her and Holland privacy. The conversation lasted nearly ten minutes when he heard the phone being put back.

"Dad said he's coming home right now."

After vomiting so much, Holly was tired. The medicine Jackson gave her certainly didn't help and he winded up having her sleep with her head on his thigh while he read yesterday's paper with much difficulty without his reading glasses.

Holland returned home, the door slammed into the wall violently as he rushed to check his daughter's sleeping form. He cooed at her while petting her head and checking for a fever.

"She should be okay, from what I understand, I think she just has a stomach flu." 

The blond man sighed with relief, he tentatively rested his hand on Jackson's other knee.

"Thanks for being here when I couldn't," the guilt plastered all over his face could be seen from Mars.

"You're here now," the older man pointed out, "That's all that'll matter to Holly when she wakes up."

Together, they tuck Holly into bed; Jackson carried Holly while Holland scrambled around the house to put a trash can next to her bed and a cup of water. After all was said and done, the latter led his semi friend to the door where he pulled the other man into a tight hug and thanked him again.

* * *

**Three**

 

Holland didn't like talking about his late wife, when he did it was always tiny tidbits like she had light brown hair or that she liked eating her egg in a hole in her toast. With Holly, Jackson felt he almost knew the woman like an old friend from all the blonde told him. Susie March was demure, skittish even, she had a habit of using British idioms that confused everyone while still having the audacity to giggle at their expressions. Her favourite fruits were blueberries and cantaloupe, and she had a beagle named Brownie growing up in London.

London, Great Britain. Where Susie March's parents, the Baxters, resided. Where Tom and Loretta Baxter wanted Holly to visit them for spring break.

The blond private investigator sat in his car with a permanent frown, at least in the sense that it had been there for practically three days since his daughter received a letter from her maternal grandparents asking if she'd like to visit them in England. Holly was overjoyed at the invitation, she immediately ran to The Nice Guys bickering in her living room to tell them the good news.

Jackson was pleased, whatever made the kid happy was good enough for him. And interfamilial relationships were important. He told her as much while looking at the lovely cursive handwriting Loretta wrote.

Holland; however, was not. Don't get the man wrong, he had nothing against the Baxters. Well, not a lot. If you count blaming him for the untimely death of their only child not a lot. Which he didn't ~~around Holly~~. Holland believed his in laws were great people. But now they were trying to take Holly away for a _week_.

"March, it's not a big deal." Jackson had spent the better half of ten minutes trying to get his partner to see reason. "Holly should be able to see her grandparents."

"Oh yeah? Well if they want to see her so bad, why don't they come here, huh? Answer me that!"

"Your mother in law said it's too much money. They'd have to fly to JFK first, then fly here. That's two tickets for two or three planes."

Holland's mouth opened and closed like a fish, utterly caught off guard by the sound, economical logic.

The brunet waved the letter that had been resting between them. "It's in the letter. And like I said, this would mean a lot to your little girl, having close-"

"I swear to God, if I hear you say interfamilial relationships are important again I'm shooting you," the blond threatened.

Jackson raised his hands up, "I don't mean no harm, March."

His partner huffed, he knew Holly adored her grandparents and vise versa. He knew they wouldn't try to turn their grandchild against him.

"Holly's all I got, you know?" He turned to look at the older man, sunglasses hiding his misty eyes. "I haven't been away from her longer than a night. I've never been out of the same state as her."

"Well it's different for the Baxters. They're old, they live far away. Holly might not be able to see them later on. Is it so bad if she sees them for a week while she still can?"

Holland sighed, he pushed his shades up to wipe at the tears welling up around his eyes before they fell.

"Healy."

"Yeah?"

"You got a suitcase I can borrow?"

Jackson slowly started to grin, "Yeah."

* * *

**Four**

 

"I hate animals," Holland said for the umpteenth time since they arrived at the pet store. He narrowed his eyes at a young woman who was scowling at him with her boyfriend. "They carry diseases and they can't wipe their own ass!" 

Jackson smiled apologetically at the couple while tugging the blond away from them by the arm.

"Does it give you joy to be snarky to strangers?"

"Hey, that broad started it-"

"We're in a _pet store_ ," the dark haired man reminded him. "For Holly," he added after a second.

Holland pouted childishly before walking away to look at the various kittens displayed for potential pet owners. The original Nice Guy now one of them.

Ever since Holly returned from London, she begged her father for a pet after her grandmother showed her photo after photo of the late Susie March with her dog. And while Holland wasn't against spoiling his only child, he drew the line at tattoos, piercings, and anything that might chew on his shoes.

But Holly's birthday was tomorrow and she'd not so subtly posted newspaper clippings of animal shelters, pounds, and pet stores all around the house. And after guaranteeing Jackson wasn't going to one up him in the presents department, the two private eyes ended up at Donnie's Dogs and More! to find a suitable pet that wasn't a goldfish.

"They're so cheap though, and I could buy like forty of them-"

"Holly doesn't want a fish," Jackson stated, pushing his partner towards the glass separating them from the cats.

The older detective arranged for a sit down with the prospective pets. Holland had settled on getting her a cat, something that would do its business in a designated area. Jackson helped the saleswoman carry five cats into the blocked off area. One was a brown tabby, another a calico, a Maine Coon kitten, a year old Himalayan, and a exotic shorthair with orange-red fur.

"Don't these things, like, eat you if you die and there's nothing to eat?" Holland asked while standing as far away as he possibly could from the furry creatures.

"Just don't die and nothing'll happen to you."

Jackson himself wasn't really a cat person, he grew up with a dog as well, a mean old Boxer who liked his brother more than him, and proved his favouritism time and time again by pissing on his floor. Still, he picked up the Maine Coon and stroked it from head to tail with glee. Cat fur was just too soft to resist touching.

"Which one should I get her, Healy?"

"I dunno, did Holly specify which one she'd like more?"

Holland fled to a different spot after the other four cats took interest in him and started sniffing and rubbing along his leg.

"Uhh, something like a Sphynx cat? Do you think they have any here?"

The older male stopped to bite his lips to keep from smiling. Oh, this would be _fun_.

"You know what? I can see you're not having a fun time, why don't you leave your card with me, I'll get everything you'll need and the cat."

"What'll I be doing?" the blond was already making his way to the short wall separating him from freedom.

"Sitting in the car."

"I can do that," Holland eagerly handed him his credit card and erratically jumped over the short wall, nearly taking out the young woman from earlier who had a few choice words for him. He returned them rude comment for rude comment.

Almost half an hour later, Jackson set a few plastic bags full of items a first time cat owner would need into the backseat and set a cardboard cat carrier on the blonde's lap.

"You find the Sphynx?"

The brunet nodded while starting his car, "Take a look." He turned back to check out where he was backing up when he heard Holland March's shrill scream.

"What the hell, man?! That's not cat!" he shouted, closing the box back up.

"Yes it is, that's a Sphynx cat. They're hairless."

"That's not a cat, Healy! That's not even a pet, that's a defrosted chicken!"

Jackson laughed, driving in the direction of Holly's school. Holland stuck the carrier in the backseat, wiping his hands on his pants while saying he better have gotten a good deal for getting a cat sans hair.

They picked up Holly at the front of her school, her eyes were drawn to the telltale cardboard box in the backseat and she squealed with joy while repeatedly kissing her father's cheek and later a quick peck to Jackson's. She returned a moment later to continue kissing Holland's cheek with her new cat in hand.

"Thank you, Dad. Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

* * *

**Five**

 

Stanley Mitchell smiled in a way that showed off all his pearly whites. Frankly, it was more predatory than pleasant. The way he looked at Holland and Jackson made them feel like they were signing away their very souls in exchange for a loan. And the blond would've said as much had his brown haired companion not dug his nails into his knee to keep him from insulting the bank employee. Though the older man couldn't blame him for high tailing it out of the Credit Union From Hell just a second after saying goodbye to Stanley.

"Did you see that guy?!" Holland yelled as soon as they were safely in his car. "I'm pretty sure that guy eats children! Those teeth were not meant for omnivores, those are carnivore teeth."

"You really have it in for Mitchell's teeth."

"Hello? Did you see those chompers? They could bite through boulders and still go all Night of the Living Dead on LA."

The car ride back to the March residence was nothing but one sided complaints and insults towards Stanley Mitchell, loan officer. It was Sunday and Holly would be returning from a sleepover at Kathleen Reeves's house any minute.

"Hey," Holly greeted when she entered the house, shrugging off her overnight bag next to the door. Her gaze roamed over her father and his business partner, causing her to raise a brow. "Mister Healy, what're you doing here? Did you guys take on a case?"

Holland gestured at the seat beside him on the couch. His daughter, faintly worried, cautiously made her way to the designated seat. The older March took the younger's hands in a loose grip between them.

"Dad," Holly said slowly, "Did you guys join a cult? Is that what this is?"

"No, sweetie. I went to the bank today, and I got a loan."

Her head titled to the side curiously, "Are you guys getting an office?"

"No, the loan is for a house. Our house. Healy came with me to cosign on a loan, so I can rebuild our old house."

Holly's blue eyes widened comically, she looked at the dark haired man sitting across from them who nodded with a smile. It was true. She let out a happy squeak before launching herself into her dad's arms and cried. She was finally going home.

The short blonde made brownies in celebration of the two men getting the loan. While her tray of goodies baked, she went to the phone to call Jessica. 

Holland and Jackson took a walk later that night to the empty lot. With surprising clarity, the younger PI told the brunet where everything would be. He explained where he'd make the master bedroom bigger and what kind of fence he would get for the backyard. His favourite improvement to the new house would be adding bars to Holly's window so boys would be unable to sneak in. 

They sat down on a patch of grass where the old living room was. There were cicadas singing in the trees nearby and the white noise of LA behind them. 

"Thanks for coming with me to the bank," Holland said, a small smile on his face, "Can't say there's anyone else who would've put their name on a loan for me."

Jackson turned his head to him, a curl breaking free from the rest of his hair to dangle loosely over his forehead. Not for the first time, the blond looked at him like he was Superman.

"Well I care about you, and Holly. This means a lot to you both, so I'm more than willing to help."

He closed the gap between their faces to kiss his partner.

* * *

  **\+ One**

 

Holly looked up at Jackson, a smile on her face. She was sitting in her new room, baby blue walls and a Bay window her dad was more than happy to have installed (a window that wouldn't actually open to let in boys? It was a no brainer). She dog eared her book and set it aside near her cat Barnabas.

"Do you need something, Mister Healy?"

The man took that as invitation to enter her room, he sat on the edge of her bed. He looked nervous, almost scared, and that made worry churn inside her stomach. Jackson Healy was one of the toughest men she knew, what could possibly freak him out?

"Holly, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," she scooted closer, ready to hug him and offer words of support.

"What would you say if I told you I had romantic feelings for your dad?"

The blonde blinked owlishly. _This_ was the conversation they were having. She and Jessica whispered about it during sleepovers with the door locked. There was something undefinable about the way Holland looked at his friend and the tenderness the latter displayed when Holland's anxiousness struck. They talked about the changing times at school, she noted the disgust in people's voices and the firm belief in tolerance leading to acceptance to full out normalcy.

"Mister Healy," Holly touched his balled up fist, "Whatever you and my dad want to be. I'm okay with it. I'm more than okay." She pulled him in for an awkward hug with her front pressed against his arm. "It sounds weird to say, but I love you like a dad."

Jackson shifted to return the gesture. They stayed like that until Holland returned home, a bag of groceries in hand. He smiled at them.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays, my lovely little birdies~! *screams in bi* Ack, this was my first ever fic thing and it made me hella anxious bc Deadlines and Robin do not mix well. They make me anxious and as someone who doesn't have an anxiety disorder, it just intensifies. And I was without a laptop right after I signed up for this and I was high key panicking I wouldn't be able to submit this. 
> 
> Well, enough about my disaster of a life around the holidays. I hope the recipient of my fic enjoys this. Hello, hi, nice to meet you. Name's Robin, I love cooking and crisp corners on a Christmas present I just wrapped. Talk to you later. :p
> 
> All my love~  
> Robin


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